


Yours to Choose

by bertie



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Captain America: The First Avenger, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertie/pseuds/bertie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky doesn't fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yours to Choose

Steve’s fingers close around Bucky’s and he’s so careful as he slides his foot back toward the train car. His hand curls around a steady bar and he stretches to get a leg inside. When he’s sure he is steady, he tightens his hand around the wrist.

“I’ve got you, Buck, you have to let go,” he yells over the wind.

He can see how scared Bucky is, can feel his hand trembling in his, but he keeps his grip.

“Come on.” The bar Bucky is holding on to loosens and terror shoots through him like ice. “Bucky!”

He watches as Bucky flexes his fingers and lets the railing go just as it releases from the train. Steve uses all his strength to haul Bucky over and up into the car. They scramble back away from the gaping hole and Bucky crawls on top of him, shaking and sobbing violently. He says nothing, just holds him impossibly tight. After a moment, he shifts slightly and says, “Let’s get into a safer car.”

They shuffle along until the door to an empty car slides shut behind them and Bucky collapses against the wall. Steve crouches beside him, checking him over in case he’d been hit by one of the blasts. But soon Bucky forces himself into his arms again so he relents and holds him until they arrive at their destination. The others are there and they don’t say anything when Bucky stays unusually close to Steve as they leave for the safe house.

It’s cold, but Steve isn’t ninety-five pounds anymore. He’s relatively comfortable in the small house, but the others complain— _loudly._ They’re spread out around the room: Monty dozing in a chair, Dum-Dum, Gabe, and Dernier playing cards at the small table with two bottles of whiskey in the middle, and Morita watching the whole thing play out. Bucky is on the couch, staring into the fire like it will tell him something, and Steve watches him from the window.

His footsteps are silent as he crosses the short distance and he grabs a blanket from the rack as he goes. Bucky doesn’t look up at him when he comes near, stays still even after he sits beside him. Steve spreads the blanket out over them and stretches his arm out behind Bucky, like he always used to do with Steve back home. After a long few minutes, Bucky curls against his side but he’s still tense.

“Do you want to talk?” Steve asks, so soft he knows none of the other men hear.

“Later,” Bucky says, sounding so wrecked that it makes Steve’s stomach turn over.

The mulls it over in his mind while they eat their meager rations. Even though he burns through his food quicker, he sneaks some of his onto Bucky’s plate because he could see Bucky’s ribs when he changed clothes. He notices that Bucky’s chair is closer to him than usual but he enjoys the closeness after almost losing him. Gabe shuffles the cards and they pass around the whiskey, trading stories and jokes as they play. Bucky takes a few sips of the alcohol but mostly declines the bottle. Steve loses miserably at cards but he enjoys the company.

It’s late when everyone retires to their bedrolls, crowded near the fire. Bucky curls up on the couch with the blanket Steve retrieved for him, and Steve bullies him into sharing it. Bucky leans against him, and feeling his soft and steady breathing soothes Steve. He wraps his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and holds him close. Steve thinks for a moment that Bucky fell asleep when he wilts into his side, but then Bucky sits up and puts a hand in the middle of Steve’s chest. His eyes are dark but there’s a fear there that scares him. It scares him until Bucky is kissing him, chaste and sweet. He pushes Bucky back gently, smiling like an idiot.

“That was okay?” Bucky asks, eyes flickering over Steve’s face.

“Yeah, Buck.” He laughs quietly as to not wake the others, and cups his hand around Bucky’s jaw. “How long?”

“Forever,” Bucky whispers, reaching up to touch Steve’s face. “I’m madly in love with you.”

Steve kisses him this time, licking into the warm wetness of his mouth. Bucky wriggles closer under the blanket and makes a soft, desperate noise.

“I wanted to tell you as soon as you dragged me back into the train but I couldn’t. Christ, Steve, I was so scared.” Bucky’s eyes shine in the firelight, wet with tears, and Steve cradles his face again. “I didn’t want to die without ever telling you how I felt. Even if you rejected me, you had to know.”

“Well, for starters, I’ve loved you from the very beginning because you never abandoned me even when I was on my death bed. You’ve been the only constant in my life and I was going crazy trying to think about what I’d do with you over here by yourself.”

Bucky smiles and that alone makes Steve feel ten pounds lighter. It’s a gorgeous smile, shier than the one he used on all the dames but bold and true and beautiful. He brushes some hair off Bucky’s forehead, letting his thumb rest on his temple.

“Could you gents do us all a favor and shut the hell up? We’re trying to sleep,” Monty grouses, never opening his eyes.

Steve feels Bucky go rigid all over and holds him close. “Sorry. We’ll be quiet.”

“’S not because of your,” Morita waves a hand, “thing. Jus’ tired.”

He could laugh at how Bucky goes limp in his arms, but he just kisses his cheek all soft and tender. He won’t mention how pink Bucky’s cheeks get.

They crawl into their bedrolls, tucked up close to each other, and Bucky smiles dozily at him.

“Love you,” he breathes, tucking his arms under his cheek.

Steve reaches over and pushes Bucky’s hair back, letting his fingers ghost down his face. Bucky smiles, doesn’t open his eyes, and nuzzles against Steve’s hand. He leans over and kisses his cheek softly two times.

“I love you, too, Bucky. Get some rest,” he murmurs, settling back down on his side.

He leaves one arm out so he can put his hand on Bucky’s elbow but snuggles down to stave off the cold.

»»

They’re camped in a forest in France and it’s warm enough for them to take off at least one layer. His and Bucky’s relationship is more obvious than ever but the rest of the Commandos do little but rib them every now and then. It’s nice to have their support but Steve has difficulty putting Bucky out of his mind during missions. He can’t help but worry about him as he’s slinging his shield at an enemy or punching someone out and he’s terrified it’s affecting his ability to fight.

“Don’t be dumb, Steve,” Bucky says, putting his gun back together. “I can look out for myself. It’s me that should be worrying about your punk ass.”

The men laugh, and Steve wrinkles his nose at them. He slips into his tent and sits heavily on his cot, ruffling his hair. Bucky’s cot is across from him and he sees a creased piece of paper lying on the blankets. Picking it up, Steve unfolds it to find a photograph. It’s a photograph of him he’s never seen before. The photo is of him, smiling in the bright sun when they are barely eighteen. The back has the date written in Bucky’s neat handwriting and his name, but what sticks out is the message.

_He was embarrassed to have his photograph taken. I wish he would see what I see in him._

Steve swallows and folds the photo back up, setting it where he’d gotten it. Just as he sits back, the flaps of his tent move and Bucky peeks inside.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, stepping in and tying the tent up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Steve moves as if to stand, but Bucky puts his hands on his shoulders.

“What’s the matter, Stevie? Talk to me.” Bucky’s hands go to his face and Steve leans into them.

“I worry about you, Buck. I know you don’t like it but I can’t help it. I’m sorry,” he says, curling his fingers into Bucky’s pants.

Bucky smoothes his thumbs over Steve’s cheeks, tilting his head back. “Steve, look at me.” He does. “You can worry about me all you want, but don’t make yourself sick. I’m safe, doll, I’m right here.”

He goes easily when Steve pulls him onto his lap.

“Can I…?” Steve doesn’t know what he wants. He wants everything Bucky is willing to give him but he can’t voice that just yet. “Can I kiss you?”

Bucky’s smile is radiant, and Steve can’t force down the broken sound he makes. He holds Bucky close and shifts them so he can lay him down on the cot. He stands momentarily to unlace their boots and sit them side-by-side against the wall of the tent. When he crawls back up, Bucky is eager and smiling and he brackets Steve’s hips with his knees.

Steve kisses him soft and slow, untucking his shirt to get his hand up underneath it. Bucky arches into him, making pleased sounds into his mouth, and Steve wishes he could stay here forever wrapped up in Bucky’s warmth.

>>>> 

There is so little time between the train and Schmidt’s plane. Steve can’t believe his and Bucky’s time is cut so short, but he’s glad Bucky is there with him.

“That was—” Bucky doesn’t continue, staring at the place Schmidt had been.

“I know,” Steve says, taking long strides to the control panel. “Are you hurt?”

Bucky stands beside him. “No. Can you land this?”

He knows that his pause is too long. “I don’t know. Let’s get Stark on the radio.”

Peggy and Morita are there too, and that almost makes it worse once Steve realizes just how close they really are to land. He can feel Bucky’s exhaustion and fear rolling off him in waves and he hates it. So he apologizes to the others, tells them that he is proud to have worked beside them, and tells Peggy he’d need a rain check on his dance.

He can see the ice approaching so he turns off the radio and grabs his shield.

“Bucky,” he calls softly, turning in his seat.

Bucky is there, blue jacket rumpled and hair falling in his eyes. He’s shaking, tears gathering on his lashes, but he lets Steve collect him in his arms. He wraps his arms tight around Bucky’s middle, linking them through the shield.

“We’ll be okay, doll, just hold onto me, okay?” Bucky nods. “Don’t let go.”

He holds his shield over Bucky as they draw nearer, the icy air whipping through the hole in the glass. The impact is worse than anything Steve has felt before, partly because of how Bucky cries out. It’s pained but at least he is still in Steve’s arms. The shield does a decent job of protecting them but once the plane has stopped skidding through the ice, he knows Bucky is hurt. He drops his shield and climbs out of the chair, laying Bucky on the only flat piece of floor left.

“Bucky, look at me.” He snaps his fingers and Bucky opens his eyes slowly. “Hey, handsome.”

Bucky laughs miserably and reaches up to touch Steve’s forehead. He can feel the blood trickling out of a cut, but he doesn’t care. The pain is miniscule compared to what Bucky must be feeling.

“It’s alright, Buck. What hurts?”

“Everything,” Bucky moans. “My ribs especially.”

Steve unbuttons Bucky’s coat part way and prods carefully. At Bucky’s whimper, he stops and he knows exactly what happened.

“I’m sorry,” he says, smoothing Bucky’s hair out of his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Bucky asks, blinking steely eyes up at him.

“For everything. I dragged you into this mess, and now look where we are.” Steve wipes blood off his forehead.

“If it wasn’t for you, I would have died a while ago, you punk. At least I get to die on my own terms this time.” Bucky’s breathing is shallow and quick and Steve knows it must hurt.

He rubs his thumb over Bucky’s cheek. “Til the end of the line?”

Bucky grins. “Til the end of the line. Now come here.”

Steve kisses him, being careful of his ribs, and can forget everything for a moment. But a wind howls through a hole somewhere and Bucky shivers. After retrieving his shield, Steve moves Bucky to a more protected area where hopefully no wind can reach. He settles down and tucks him against his chest.

“I had a feeling that I wouldn’t make it back from the war,” Bucky says after a long moment. “I’m glad that I’m with you. Not that I wanted you to die too. Just that I’m glad I don’t have to die alone.” He sighs heavily. “You know what I mean.”

He tries his best not to cry, kissing Bucky on the forehead. “I know, Buck. I know what you mean.”

Bucky tilts his head back to look up at him and Steve wipes his eyes quickly.

“Hey, it’s all right, darlin’,” Bucky says, reaching up to touch cold fingers to Steve’s cheek. “We’ll be okay.”

Steve catches his hand and kisses his fingers, wishing they had a blanket to cover up with. It’s miserable, sitting in the cold and waiting. They aren’t sure what they’re waiting for but it drives Steve insane. He paces the small space and sometimes helps Bucky stretch his legs or relieve himself. They kiss a lot too, because they didn’t have nearly enough time to make up for the years they had danced around one another.

Bucky succumbs much quicker to the cold. He’s drowsy a lot of the time and is slow to wake up when Steve makes him. He forgets where they are and stumbles when he tries to walk. It destroys Steve to watch him slowly die with no way to help. He strips out of some of his uniform and makes Bucky put it on, hoping to warm him even a little.

It seems to work for a short time. Bucky wakes from a nap with a little more light in his eyes and he smiles.

“I love you, Steve,” he mumbles.

Steve kisses him softly, licking into his mouth in the hopes that some of his meager warmth will transfer. Bucky makes a soft noise, but his breathing is still too shallow.

“I love you, Bucky. Don’t ever think anything different. I love you more than the sun and the stars and the moon combined. You’re everything to me.”

Bucky smiles and nuzzles his cold nose into the crook of Steve’s neck.

The next time, Bucky doesn’t wake up.

»» 

When Steve regains consciousness, he notices two things immediately. Bucky isn’t there and the air isn’t cold.

He sits up on the bed and looks around the unfamiliar room. There’s a baseball game on the radio that he recognizes. He’s on edge when a woman walks in. He doesn’t believe her when she tries to explain so he just asks for Bucky.

She hesitates and glances away from him long enough that he knows something is wrong.

“His name is James Buchanan Barnes. Where is he?” Steve repeats himself calmly even though his heart is racing and the hair on his neck is standing up.

Before she can answer, he pushes past her and out the door. The hallway is clean and businesslike—not a hospital. He breaks into a sprint, throwing open doors as quickly as he can, and frantically calls out Bucky’s name. Somewhere down the hall he can hear guards coming so he quickly ducks into a room.

“He was running this way…”

“He couldn’t have just disappeared…”

“Where is he?”

Steve crosses the room to look out the window and what he sees shocks him. There are cars and people covering every inch of the streets below, and the signs flash and change before his eyes. He moves away and listens at the door for any noise. There is no one when he cracks the door so he slips out and continues down the hall.

He’s ducking back out of a room when he comes face to face with a dark-skinned man with an eyepatch and a billowing black coat. He waits for no introduction.

“Where is Bucky? James Buchan—”

“He’s here and he’s safe,” the man says. “I’ll take you to him.”

Steve follows a few paces behind in case it’s a ruse. The room they stop at is more like a hospital room compared to his and he hesitates until the man motions him inside. He enters slowly and feels his knees buckle when he sees Bucky in the bed.

He’s asleep, hooked up to an IV, and covered in at least five blankets. Steve collapses at the side of his bed, grabbing Bucky’s free hand to kiss his fingers and knuckles. He counts all his fingers twice and kisses the palm of his hand.

“He’s been awake for a few days,” the man says, and Steve had forgotten he was there at all.

“Is he healthy?” Steve doesn’t take his eyes off Bucky’s face.

“That’s the tricky part. You’ve been asleep, Cap, for almost seventy years.”

But that doesn’t answer Steve’s question.

“Is he alright?”

The man comes around to the other side of Bucky’s bed. “Barnes shouldn’t have survived being frozen for that long, but he’s been awake and talking for about two days.”

Bucky’s face when Steve found him strapped to that table in Italy, delirious and frightened but trusting in Steve to lead him to safety, flashes through his mind. He holds Bucky’s hand between both of his, seeking out his pulse. It’s strong and Steve may hate the reason Bucky is still there but he thanks God for letting him keep his best friend.

“Hey.”

Steve’s head snaps up, and Bucky is smiling at him.

“Oh, oh my God, Bucky.” He scrambles up and cups his hand around Bucky’s cheek only to remember the other presence in the room. “How do you feel?”

“Can’t complain. I was dehydrated and still injured when they found us, but I’m healing. I’m so glad you’re awake,” Bucky says, his voice raspy from sleep.

Steve lays his hand over Bucky’s ribs and he grimaces but shrugs. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’ll be right back.” The man turns to leave. “Stay here, Captain.”

The firmness is the man’s voice is reminiscent of Colonel Phillips’s voice and Steve smiles faintly.

“Yes, sir,” he says, turning back to Bucky. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Bucky smiles. “I couldn’t wait for you to wake up.”

“Well I’m here now,” Steve soothes, sitting on the edge of Bucky’s bed. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

He checks over his shoulder before cupping his hands around Bucky’s cheeks. His lips are dry and chapped but Steve has never been so glad to kiss someone in his life. He licks into Bucky’s mouth, delighted to feel the damp warmth. Bucky makes a soft noise and fists his hand in Steve’s shirt.

“I love you, Bucky. Oh my god, I love you so much. More than anything in this world. I can’t even think about what I would do without you,” Steve mumbles, his lips barely an inch from Bucky’s.

“You always were better with words than me,” Bucky teases, grinning up at him. “But I feel the same way.”

Steve presses a firm kiss to Bucky’s forehead, stroking his hair back. “That’s okay. You show your affections differently.”

Bucky pulls him down for another kiss, and Steve whimpers when Bucky’s tongue flickers out into his mouth. He tilts Bucky’s head back and their lips slot together perfectly. Steve finally moves to sit in the chair beside Bucky’s bed, tracing over each of his fingers.

The man—Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D.—returns to explain everything he can, but some things are still a mystery.

It’s a few days before they let Bucky go, but Steve sets up the apartment S.H.I.E.L.D. gives them and starts learning how to use twenty-first century technology. When Bucky comes home, he is surprisingly bright and happy. Steve craves the change after so many years with a cloud hanging over them.

“Oh, Steve, look!” Bucky touches the record player carefully and grins. “It’s beautiful.”

Steve pulls out the box in the cabinet below, smiling at Bucky’s dazed look. “There’s more.”

Bucky takes the box of records and sits on the couch to rifle through them. Steve laughs and goes into the kitchen. He hears Bucky move around and curse under his breath but then the familiar grainy chords of a song fill the apartment. Bucky peeks around the separating wall with a cheeky smile and Steve can’t say no when he asks him to dance.

Steve winds his arm around Bucky’s waist, enjoys the warmth of his hand in his.

“How come I’m the girl?” Bucky complains, nose wrinkling in adorable irritation.

“Because I’m taller,” Steve answers him with a smirk.

Bucky scoffs but still accepts Steve’s gentle leading. They bump into the coffee table but once it’s shoved back there is plenty of room.

“I thought you said you couldn’t dance,” Bucky says after a while, occasionally glancing down at their feet.

Steve smiles and kisses Bucky on the cheek. “I just didn’t have the right partner.”

He laughs and leans up to kiss Steve. They dance through two more records and Steve’s arms feel empty when Bucky moves away. Dinner is stressful because they had never had this much food before and it’s hard to choose. But afterwards Bucky sprawls out on the couch and Steve really wants to kiss him.

“Stop staring and come here,” Bucky says, spreading his legs and reaching for Steve.

He crawls over Bucky and kisses him like his life depends on it.


End file.
